


Strawberry Shortcake

by Umi (umichii)



Series: Hunger, Not Anger [2]
Category: Groove Adventure RAVE | Rave Master
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2017-11-02 21:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umichii/pseuds/Umi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which they faced themselves and each other and patched things up and Musica watched.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strawberry Shortcake

**Author's Note:**

> This is a heavily edited version of the original. It has been two years, more or less, so expect changes in style and format.

There they go again. Haru was beginning to feel like the wife being abused by her drunken husband. The only difference was that they were not actually married. Haru was not a wife, and Lucia was definitely not drunk. No, Lucia was far from drunk. He was sober—real sober and very conscious of what he was doing.

Haru grimaced and gulped at his boyfriend’s looming figure. If Musica received a word about this, there would be more than just harsh words.

Without warning, a fist went flying straight at him and punched him on the jaw. There was that telltale taste of something metallic inside his mouth. Haru could have sworn he saw a brief flash of red in the blonde’s eyes, red like the blood dripping from his split lips. Before Haru could straighten up, he was thrown against the wall, the back of his head hitting it hard. The picture frame above him rattled a bit, disturbed from its position, and somehow, that scared him more than any concussion he might have gotten.

Haru looked up and despite the blur he could tell Lucia was glaring down at him, his eyes terrifying something innate within Haru. He could faintly hear Lucia cursing him, who’s the cocky one now, bastard, daring him to say a word, pressing him to fight back. Haru didn’t though. He remained quiet, both of his arms brought up, eyes screwed shut, shielding his fear from being apparent. But Lucia felt it, no matter how much Haru tried to cover it. He could almost hear the thoughts running through the blond’s head, the anger and hatred evident on his face. He bet Lucia’s thoughts were along the line of kick this pathetic puppy out of the house. He must be so tempted to beat the shit out of him. Lucia hated weakness, and he hated it when Haru was being the weak one.

If there was another fist hitting him, Haru didn't feel it. He didn't feel anything anymore; his mind was too blank to register anything his senses were telling him. Just as he was about to expect another round of pain, the shadow over him disappeared.

Haru blinked before his crossed arms. He blinked and blinked again, as if trying to blink away the fear in his eyes.

Slowly, he looked up. Instead of seeing apathetic brown eyes spiting him and his existence, there was nothing but the chaos of their living room. Not even a shadow of what had remained. The front door was open, cold wind rushing into the room and carrying with it droplets of rain from outside. The storm had not stopped yet and it didn’t look anywhere near it.

And Lucia had just left the house and went straight into that unrelenting storm. That silly, stupid, crazy fool.

Scrambling up, Haru hurriedly grabbed his coat and ran out of the house. There was only one place he had in mind, the same as always. At times, Haru felt like they were simply reliving a play.

The moment he stepped out, bullets of ice-cold raindrops poured down on him, the cold seeping through the thick material of his coat. But Haru was numbed to it already. There was nothing else in his mind other than Lucia and only Lucia. He ran and ran, pushing past busy people on the way. The heaven wasn’t quite on his side either. Wet boots slipping on a puddle, his line of sight met concrete ground. A jolt of pain shoot up his arm, his wrist suddenly burning up, but Haru ignored it. Pushing himself up, he forced his entire weight on his abused wrists. There’s no giving up in this game of theirs, and he won’t be the first to give up, not until he got back at that crazy bastard.

Wasting no more time to catch his breath, he ran forward as fast as he could, jumping and stumbling occasionally over puddles, but none of that mattered. There’s nothing that could stop him, not even whatever dudes above could do.

 

 

The strawberry shortcake was tempting him to fish out his wallet and use his remaining cash on it. Musica contemplated: should he or should he not? There was no cheesecake left. The bakery only had this remaining slice of something strawberry for him. He would have bought it and finish it here and now, if it wasn’t for the damn remaining cash on his wallet. It was either that new video game or a savory sweet minute of heaven in a cake. Musica though, unlike any other kid his age, was a very smart kid.

Obviously, he opted for the cake.

Just as he was about to point and order the cake, his eyes caught sight of something he was not supposed to see. A flash of silver ran past the huge glass window of De Luné Bakery and Pastries, too fast for him to imagine it but too noticeable to fool him. There are few things that could fool Musica and Haru was none of them, and that blur of silver was most definitely his friend. He could never imagine that determined, almost angry, look that only meek silver eyes could make, and somehow, Musica had a bad feeling that crazy Lucia Leagrove was also involved.

When the cashier had asked him if he was ready to order, Musica muttered an apology and left, yanking the door rather harshly. That Haru didn’t even bring an umbrella with him. That completely stupid idiot.

 

 

His breaths came in labored pants. His body still burned with anger, recoiling with hatred and self-loathing. He hated it whenever he sees that damn smile, whenever he gets affected by it. He hated it that the smile can bring such a reaction from him, that the smile made him feel warm inside, can pull a smile from his normally frowning face. He hated it. He hated it that there was nothing else that boy can do other than make him feel… not him.

The wall beside him cracked. He ignored the pain shooting up his arm. His knuckles were already bruised anyway. You can’t give a damn when there’s none to give anymore.

He bit his bottom lip. Somehow, his gut feeling was telling him that it was impossible the brat would not follow him. It made him sick that he was proven false when the boy did finally appear behind him, out of breath, the loud panting grating on his already frayed nerves. The brat reminded him too much of a lost puppy clinging to the first person who picked him up.

Neither spoke a word. Lucia wouldn’t dare; he was too strong for it. Too prideful. He waited, and he just waited. The silence was painful and only made his heart beat wilder than he’d like to admit, but he wouldn’t dare to break the silence. He didn’t want to, even if that silence was wrought with tension, because this. This was the nearest semblance they have to peace. Peace from arguments, from the pushing and pulling, from cold shoulders and pretenses, from fighting. He wouldn’t dare break the cord, to snap it like he would when he forgot to take his pills.

But he knew that cord had to snap whether they like it or not, but Lucia was certain neither of them want the moment, this moment of silence, to break. It might actually be better if someone else broke it for them. They might only end up blaming each other again and the cycle would continue again, and then where would that leave them?

 

 

Haru heard someone yelling his name with an inappropriate loudness, but he ignored it, didn’t even bother to actually acknowledge Musica. He didn’t want to break the nonexistent gaze he held with the bastard in front of him, that stupid boy he was madly and foolishly in love with, who didn’t even wear something to keep him warm and protected from the rain. Such a complete and utterly stupid fool.

 

 

Musica stopped a few feet away from Haru and noted how the boy was looking intently into the darkness of an alley. Then he noticed what Haru was so fixated with.

He wanted to step forward, but he found himself unable to. It was like there was an unknown force keeping him from stepping in to break the ice. And there he finally understood. This was their fight. This was their battle. This was their play to stage, and he had no role to play here. He was only a mere audience to this drama of tragic comedy.

 

 

The moment was destroyed, perfectly ruined by the presence of an unwanted spectator. It vanished into thin air and not a speck of its dust remained. No one knew who was supposed to make the first move, the first step forward down this bloody, winding road they had taken. Neither of them was willing to take the first brunt of the hit that was surely to meet them at the end of the road. Haru knew Lucia was too much of a coward to swallow his pride and face the inevitable, and he himself was too much of a hopeful idiot to believe Lucia was capable of it.

So Haru braved himself and took the gamble and changed the course of their fight down an untrodden road. He always did. He always does, so he took the first step forward and before he knew it the other foot followed. He walked forward. He maintained a normal pace, fists clenching and unclenching, shoulders tense and arms ready to block. God knew he was determined and there was no room for him to falter. If he did fall, he would just pick himself up like he always did.

 

 

Lucia's ears twitched. He heard a crunch underneath a heavy settling of weight. He kept his back turned, and he forced himself to stay still. He didn’t want to turn around and see what that brat was even thinking of trying. There was anger and also fear, but definitely more anger because no one else in this would could make him hate himself more than Haru does.

 

 

 

Musica watched the two boys with bated breath, biting the insides of his mouth in worry and anticipation. He didn’t bet with himself anymore on who would pull out the first punch. It was already obvious.

Then there, it began. The first stage of a metamorphosis of this twisted relationship. Haru held out a hand, groping aimlessly until it finally reached the soaked fabric of Lucia’s shirt. Haru’s hand fisted and he clung, and Musica felt himself breathing again.

 

 

Lucia didn’t do anything to shrug off the grip on his shirt. He just stood there. He didn’t dare to move an inch, until he felt it, that small yet undeniably huge move. It struck him terribly, like a knife plunged into the center of his back, stabbing right through his chest. And all through it the fist clinging to his shirt didn’t shake a single bit, staying firm and strong until everything changed and Lucia could feel it again, that dreaded, horrible feeling fluttering around in his guts like, that weight surrounding his heart lifting until he could feel it reaching the back of his throat and warmth reaching the dark recesses of his being, that breathlessness stealing all of his senses. It annoyed him, truly, really annoyed him and it made him want to turn around and punch the brat behind him, but he couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find himself to move and turn around and punch that stupid brat in the face.

Pitter, patter. Pitter, patter, and nothing else happened and his heart remained up in his throat.

They stayed there, under the cold hard rain freezing them and soaking them down to their bones. The pain contorting his heart, the agony twisting his mind, both slowly ebbed away. His shadows began to fade until one remained—his real shadow, the shadow that truly belonged to him, the shadow that held nothing but the remains of his actions, the reflections of his mind. He looked down and he saw it blended together with Haru’s shadow. It annoyed him still but somehow, a part of him, the enlightened one, smiled. His lips quivered. His shoulders began to shake. His knees wanted to buckle. His breaths began coming in short gasps again, his mind finally registering the coldness of the rain. His eyes felt really hot.

A head pressed itself against his back, the fist becoming two now. That’s it. That’s enough. Why must the dam collapse now?

Hot tears began to stream down his eyes. Flashes of unwanted images appeared before his mind’s eyes—of smiles, of frowns, of laughs. He lost it. The world before him had collapsed—he had finally collapsed, his mind going blank. Everything else afterwards was nothing else but darkness, nothing else but void.

 

 

Musica stared at the plate in front of him, the pink cake seducing him to grab the fork. He had painstakingly pulled himself out of that horrid scene, but no matter how hard he tried, he can’t take the image out of his head. The vestige of it… it was heavily etched into every corner of his mind.

Finally, he sighed. The waitress beside him looked at him inquiringly, then shrugged and kept on her way.

When Musica finally opened his eyes, the sunlight was beginning to rise back from its hiding place behind the clouds. That was when Musica finally grabbed his fork and took a bite of the strawberry shortcake.


End file.
